


chip on your shoulder

by orphan_account



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn, Legally Blonde - Hach/O'Keefe/Benjamin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Legally Blonde Fusion, Angst, Banter, Cameos, Cordelia has a bakery, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Loosely inspired by Legally Blonde, M/M, Med school students Charlotte and Mendel, Whizzer and Marvin argue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 00:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19120765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When they tell the story, it goes like this.It starts at a table outside of Columbia Law.Or the one inspired by Legally Blonde.





	chip on your shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> this is only because of christian borle being in the obc of legally blonde. i adore the guy. again, even though this has ELEMENTS of legally blonde, it's not a full on adaptation because i don't think a lot of the events would fit. also because i'm lame, a lot of the outside characters are from other musicals instead of being purely original. So velma in chap 1? It's velma kelly velma haha curse my unoriginality. This is gonna be my first really long longfic and it's kinda a crazy idea that's been stewing around for a while. I'm so happy it's finally out there. And finally, awespme reader, thank you taking on this crazy crossover! also i gave the falsetto people last names because... idk? also i think this fic is like in the early-mid 2000s becayse that's around the time the movie and musical came out. and this is more inspired by legally blonde the musical btw because like laura bell bundy? her voice and sass and everything? also christian borle but we all knew that. (and andrew rannells and stephanie j block and brandon uranowitz and anthony rosenthal and everything and everyone...) and william finn, he'll probably be in here somewhere

When they tell the story, it goes like this:

 

The sun is harsh in the sky - the sky is so blue that it looks like it’s been scribbled in with a crayon. Whizzer squints at the sun, daring it to be any brighter and tries not to look at the other students sitting round the outdoor table. They’re all preoccupied with something - a girl with glasses is  swiping through her phone, some guy with is intently focused on something on his computer. The guy sitting right next to Whizzer is glaring at his laptop too, as he flips through note pages scribbled with tiny handwriting.

 

They’re all contained, waiting for the moment for the ice to crack and all of them to be drowned in the sea of uncertainty.

 

Or shittiness. Depends on what one thinks of law school, anyway.

 

Whizzer fixes his blazer minutely and the guy with the notebook shifts to look at him, irritated.

 

“You know,” he says, “It’s at least 70 degrees out here.”

 

Whizzer levels him a look. The other guy’s eyes are bright blue and sharp, like he’s trained to look for the chink in the armor. They’d almost be nice to look at, if they weren’t so necessarily pissed off.

 

“Your point?” Whizzer shoots back, feels his lips curl into a smirk. “Someone’s got to look decent in this horde.”

 

The guy’s eyes widen but his mouth thins, like he’s going to take on a fight. His face is angular and sharp, but his curly hair is flyaway and dark. He’s got some _nice_ cheekbones. Whizzer thinks, absently, that he might actually be attractive if he didn’t look like such a stuck-up ass. Might even be in Whizzer’s lane.

 

Before anything starts between them, their RA comes up to them, snapping a piece of gum between wine-red lips. She balances a stack of pamphlets in one arm, other hip cocked out. The girl with glasses awkwardly fumbles up and fixes them, looking entranced. The redhead doesn’t look up from his pixelated adventures.

 

“Okay, kiddies,” she says, exasperated, looking as if she wants to be anywhere but here. “I’m Velma and you’re the idiots I’m stuck with. Take these things, and introduce yourselves, why don’t you?”

 

Stuck-Up Ass goes to speak, but Whizzer cuts him to the chase. “I’m from Nebraska, but I went here for undergrad. New York’s pretty awesome, you know? The sights, the sex, the money-“

 

Stuck-Up Ass makes a noise and Whizzer tries his best to not give in, because fuck it, he’s not going to give into some asshole, even if he has nice fucking eyes and nice fucking _cheekbones-_

 

“My name’s Whizzer Brown, by the way,” he says, and then Stuck-Up Ass is actually sniggering, sniggering and holding a fist to his mouth and Whizzer whirls around, says quietly, dangerously - “Problem?”

 

“Yeah, well, for one thing,” he says, still smirking like an idiot. “That can’t  be an _actual_ name.”

 

There’s a lot of things that Whizzer could say to that - a lot of thing he _feels_ toward that - because his name has always been his shield toward this whole unfair world, a shield against a shitty childhood, a something to make people cock their heads and laugh because it’s always _ha ha it’s Whizzer the dumbass, Whizzer the pretty face, the easy screw, Whizzer who couldn’t possibly be smart enough to go to law school - did you cheat your way on the LSAT?_

 

But this- this is like being stripped bare. It hurts.

 

“Now, Marvin,” Velma says, voice teetering on the side of dangerous. “Play nice.”

 

Whizzer stares at Marvin, who’s looking a little bit like a kicked puppy. Whizzer wonders what he looks likes when he’s genuinely happy, allows himself to break out into a grin that makes his cheekbones go wide and his eyes to light up and wow, Whizzer really fucking should not be thinking about this sort of thing. Because regardless of that, Marvin’s withering on the inside - like someone’s scooped out whatever made him human and shoved in dissatisfaction instead. It’d be sad if Marvin wasn’t an asshole.

 

They go through more introductions - the girl’s from Harvard, wrote a play on the 1900s, the guy’s from MIT and claims that Mark Zuckerberg stole his code to make Facebook. Whizzer grins at that, but the guy - Edward- only shoots him a dirty look.

 

When they get up to split to their respective dorms, no promises between them, Whizzer catches Marvin staring, long after the others have left. He crosses his arms, makes sure to stand up straighter, but Marvin looks unfazed. He clears his throat, and Marvin suddenly shakes himself out of it, eyes narrowing.

 

The thing is - Marvin may be kind of an asshole, but it’s safe to say Whizzer is too. He can’t be hypocritical about that.

 

“So,” he says, drawing his red Converse-clad shoe in a circle on the sidewalk. “Glazer, huh?”

 

Marvin flinches, just for a second, then holds himself taut. “ _Your point?”_ he sneers, almost matching Whizzer’s inflection.

 

Whizzer gives him a little shrug. “You Jewish?”

 

At that, Marvin’s eyes go anything other than pissed for the first time. They go wide and stare, and his shoulders loosen. Whizzer notes how much shorter he actually is - not by a lot, but enough to rub it in. _Rub it in?_

 

“How’d you..?”

 

Whizzer flashes him a grin - small enough to be sexy, sharp enough to biting. It draws people in, most of the time, baiting them and forcing them to pay attention. Marvin glares at him, not looking the least bit attracted, but there’s something a little unsteady in how he does it - like it’s a front.

 

“Half-Jewish,” he says, drawling it out. “Mom’s side.”

 

Marvin makes a little _oh_ sound. For a second, Whizzer thinks he might actually be civil, and, for some reason disappointment coils in his stomach. There’s a pause and a part of Whizzer just wants to leave - but he doesn’t - he waits for Marvin.

 

Marvin opens his mouth and says, “Well, it doesn’t change anything.”  

 

Whizzer stares at him and tries to figure out what he means - it’s not really _hostile,_ exactly but there’s Marvin’s stupid mouth curling into a smug smirk - like he’s figured out everything about Whizzer already. Like he's just another assuming asshole who's got his whole boring life planned out in front of him, even though he's probably just too scared to experience anything.

 

"Whatever," Whizzer says, shrugging a a shoulder carelessly, flipping his hair for good measure. Marvin swallows hard but Whizzer's not going to figure out what that means.

 

There's a shitty part of him that files it away for later because-

 

well. _Because._

 

Whizzer glares back and turns away. He doesn't look back. He doesn't owe Marvin _anything._

 

That's how it begins, anyway.

 


End file.
